SUBJECT
The cigales have stopped. The full moon has burst.
DEVELOPMENT
The cigales have stopped, so it’s under twenty-six degrees. For the first time in weeks. And the crickets can be heard, their chirp so polite after the former maracas riot. Lorca on the terrace, slowly signalling some obscure communication. The moonlight is blue tonight. The full moon has burst.
RECAPITULATION
English tourists, in a hidden garden, are giddy with rosé and sauvignon, and though their words are indistinguishable, the conversation, polite, light-hearted, is not displeasing. The village fete was last night. The cigales have stopped so it’s under twenty-six, we nod, sagely. With her eyes, the cat signals her assent. The rocks beyond the village wall are all lit up in a blue rippled by dainty clouds, as if submerged, as if the full moon has burst.
Lovely. I may have entered that garden myself.
Nice descriptive writing here, I particularly liked the last line about the moon.